The Matter of the Heart
by Naninator
Summary: She didn't want to have it out with him now, not when he was looking at her like that. Spoilers for the new episode: The Final Problem. Please read at your own risk! Sherlolly!


_Hello everyone! Woo what an episode! This is my piece, just a little conversation between Molly and Sherlock after everything has happened because holy CRAP what a phone call!_ _Spoilers for the new episode: The Final Problem_ _, so please read at your own risk!_

 _Bit of angst, lots of feels, because I can't write anything without angst. Please enjoy and may that episode fuel our Sherlolly hearts forever more!_

 **Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the show. I'm just using them for my own entertainment. All mistakes are mine!**

 **The Matter of the Heart**

Molly Hooper sighed softly as she drew the blue gloves off her hands and threw them into the bin, the last autopsy for the day finally completed. She made her way to her desk to complete the paperwork when the double doors opened. Glancing up, her heart skipped a beat when Sherlock Holmes entered, his coat flaring as he moved towards her. Her skin prickled with awareness when he stopped before her and Molly gave him a tremulous smile.

"Hello, Sherlock," she said quietly, her brown eyes glowing softly. He continued to stare at her, his blue-green eyes darting over her face intently, as if he was trying to memorise her features. Molly's heart raced as his confession over the phone a few days ago filled her head. To be honest, it had hardly left her thoughts at all. As he stood before, motionless and without returning her greeting, Molly realised that she had been right about that phone call; he hadn't really confessed his feelings to her, not when she had basically forced him to say the words first.

She still didn't know why he had wanted her to say "I love you" to him; the premise of an experiment being his reason for her to say those words. Her heart had cracked a little more at him telling her to say them anyway when she had pleaded with him to let it go. She knew that he knew perfectly well how she felt about him. Molly supposed that her making him say it first was her way of trying to save face even when her heart was breaking. What she hadn't expected, what she hadn't anticipated, was him going through with it, saying it not only once, but twice, and that second time had had her heart threatening to burst with the wealth of emotion underlying his tone. So she had finally done what he had asked, cradling the phone to her mouth, and whispered that she loved him.

Now, here he stood before her, three days later and no contact between them in that time, and guilt overwhelmed her for forcing him to say those words. She didn't shoulder all the guilt, she knew; he was equally to blame for forcing her to say those words, and Molly hated how their already strained relationship was now forever skewed, uncertain. She no longer had any idea where she stood with this unfathomable, brilliant man before her, and it fuelled the frustration, the confusion, the anger and hurt that settled like a heavy stone over her heart.

"I..." Molly glanced away and inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside her. With her hands clenched at her sides she looked up and met his blue-green gaze, plastering a strained smile on her face. "So, um, I guess the case is over now? You solved it?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and Molly swallowed heavily, knowing that she couldn't fool him with her fake smiles; while she always had the ability to read him, he could read her equally well when he wanted to.

"Yes," he began slowly, his eyes continuing to trace over her face. She shifted uncomfortably, not used to such close scrutiny from him. "Yes, yes it is over." There was such a depth of feeling behind those words and he seemed to deflate a little before her, as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders. Concern fluttered around the edges of her confusion and anger and Molly bit her lip to prevent any thoughtless words from bursting out of her mouth.

Watching him silently for a moment Molly realised that she didn't want to have it out with him now, not when he was looking at her like that, his gaze completely focused on her as if she was the most fascinating puzzle he had ever come across. She didn't want to know why he had asked her to say those words, didn't want to know why he had almost overdosed on drugs weeks ago, joking about it as if it wouldn't kill him, as if his life meant nothing. It was too painful to even think about. Instead she tried to smile, more genuinely this time, aware that it probably looked more like a grimace than a smile, before she turned away from him, a tightness appearing in her chest as if her heart was being squeezed in a vice.

"Well, that's great, isn't it? Now everything can go back to normal, yeah?" She didn't wait for him to reply and made to sit at her desk when his hand grasped her wrist.

" _Molly_."

Her name. Just her name in his voice caused her to still as tears came unbidden to her eyes. She stared ahead and blinked rapidly, trying to get herself under control, before she turned to look at him, another strained smile on her lips.

"Yes?" When she caught his expression her smile dropped and that rush of guilt, quickly followed by fear of his impending rejection of her feelings, caused a babble of words to tumble out of her mouth. "Look, can we just forget that conversation a few days ago? I know it was an experiment or whatever and I'm sorry for making you say it first but you _knew_ what it meant to me having to say that to you...to – to tell you that I...that I-I _l_ - _love_ – " she broke off, her face flushing heavily in a mixture of embarrassment, anger and humiliation. Those blasted tears were making a reappearance and Molly glared at him, stubbornly keeping them at bay.

"I d-don't know why you wanted me to say it, especially when you already know – "

"I didn't know." Molly's eyes snapped to his in disbelief at his softly spoken words.

"You didn't – how could you _possibly_ not have known how I felt? You, the man that _knows_ everything, that _sees_ everything – "

"I _didn't_ know," Sherlock repeated and tugged gently on her wrist until she faced him completely. Molly didn't know how to read the look on his face but it reminded her of the time when they had spent that day together solving cases. She swallowed nervously as he moved closer to her.

"I can't tell you everything just yet, about what has happened these last few days, but that phone call, Molly..." his expression twisted and his hand tightened briefly on her wrist before slipping down to tangle his fingers with hers. His skin was smooth and cool against her own, the small calluses on the tips of his fingers from playing the violin causing tingles to shot up her arm as they scraped against her skin. Her chest constricted and she sucked in a startled breath.

"That phone call...the person I was dealing with was threatening your life and the condition...the condition to save you was that I..." He paused, his fingers tightening briefly on hers as he met her gaze. "I had to make you say that you love me. I _had_ to. If...if I did then you would be safe. I – I will admit that I was alarmed when you didn't pick up the phone the first time, but when I saw you in your kitchen – " Molly interrupted him.

"You could see me?" She asked, horrified by the thought that there were cameras in her flat that she had no idea were there. Sherlock squeezed her hand again and nodded.

"Yes. The person I faced had orchestrated everything to suit their purposes. You were angry with me," he continued and Molly nodded, lifting her free hand to her eyes, scrubbing away the budding tears.

"Of course I was, Sherlock," she laughed mirthlessly, a tear escaping. "You almost killed yourself with drugs, _again_ , and ever since you came back from that ridiculous exile – yes, I knew about that, M-Mary told me before... _before_ – anyway, ever since you came back I've felt like I've been an...an afterthought. I – I thought that I was your _friend_ , Sherlock, and then that _blasted_ phone call – "

"You _are_ my friend, Molly," Sherlock interrupted urgently, reaching out to grasp her other hand that had been flailing about angrily. He tugged her closer. "That day I asked you to tell me that you loved me I knew you cared for me, _really_ cared for me, but it wasn't until that moment that I realised _how_ much. When you told me you would only say it if I said it first, you will never understand how difficult it was for me – "

"Because you _don't_ feel that way – " Molly cried, her voice breaking as she tried to pull away again, her eyes shining wetly, but Sherlock held her fast, his expression fierce.

" _No_. Molly, it was difficult because I knew that it would change things between us. I knew that what I was asking of you was painful, that it would hurt you, but I had no idea how much it would hurt me, too. I had no idea that when I uttered those words, while you stood in your kitchen with your phone cradled to your ear...that I would mean them." Molly's eyes darted up to his in shock and she could see moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at her, his lips trembling as he offered her a shaky smile.

"What?" Molly breathed, clearly thinking she had misheard him. A tear slid down his cheek as he released one of her hands and cupped her face, his thumb brushing away her own tears.

"I meant it and I didn't realise it until that moment that I loved you, that I have for some time. And when you said those words back to me, so softly, the relief that you would be safe was overwhelmed with gratitude and joy. No one has ever loved me as you have, Molly Hooper. So constantly, so unconditionally," his smile widened as another tear spilled down his cheek and Molly choked back a sob. He bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and Molly closed her eyes at the contact, her tears spilling too fast for Sherlock to catch them all. Her mind raced, struggling to process what Sherlock was telling her and she wondered if she was dreaming. He couldn't be saying this to her, not when she had convinced herself that if he felt anything for her it was only friendship.

"Sherlock, stop," Molly pleaded as he pulled away, her eyes closed tightly, afraid that if she opened them and saw his face she would lose the tenuous hold she had on her emotions. " _Please_ , p – please don't lie to me. You don't have to say these things just to...to make me feel better. I'm an adult...I – I can handle a b – broken heart." Another sob escaped and she bit her lip harshly, berating herself for letting that slip. She tried to pull away again, barely budging when Sherlock's hand gripped hers tightly, holding her in place.

"Molly," Sherlock sighed, lifting her hand and tugging her closer before he pressed her palm against his chest. "Molly, look at me." She shook her head but gasped when his other hand moved from her cheek to her chin and tilted it upward. She could see the glow of the fluorescent lights behind her eyelids.

"Molly, _please_." It had been a long time since he had used that word with her and the fervency in his voice had her resolve weakening. She opened her eyes, her breath hitching when she met his gaze.

"Can you feel that?" He asked, his voice low, almost hoarse, and Molly looked down when he pressed her hand harder against his chest. She could feel the rapid pace of his heart as it beat beneath her palm and she curled her fingers into his shirt. "My heart beats now because of you, Molly Hooper. When I was in that room, watching you in your kitchen, all the deduction in the world could not have saved me, only _your_ words. I'm not lying to you, please believe that, and I never want to break your heart again, not when you hold mine." Molly locked her wide eyes with his, her heart matching the rapid pace of his own. She searched his eyes intently and he met her gaze unflinchingly, wanting her to see the truth in his words. Molly's expression softened as she caught a glimpse of what he felt for her in his blue-green eyes, tears spilling from her own dark ones as she struggled to catch her breath, and she nodded to tell him that she believed him. Seeing that she was listening to him, open to what he had to say, Sherlock continued.

"I didn't know if I would survive," Sherlock murmured, looking down at her and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "If I would make it out of that place, solve the case, alive with both John and my brother intact, but the thought that you were safe and that...and that you _loved_ me, truly loved me...was what carried me through, Molly. I finally understood what you and John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, and...and Mary have been trying to tell me all these years; emotions, _sentiment_ , are important, that it generates empathy and understanding for those who so desperately need it, who struggle to hold onto their sanity, for those who are lost because no one has bothered to find them. Like my sister," he finished softly and Molly looked confused.

"Your sister?" Sherlock shook his head and brushed his thumb along her jaw as his eyes became unfocused for a moment, lost in thought.

"Another time." Molly nodded when a flash of sorrow passed over his features. They stared at each other for a long time and Molly felt the anger and hurt within her melting away as, in its place, hope and love bloomed, her heart swelling as she met his blue-green eyes. He _loved_ her and _she_ held his heart. Molly wondered if she would look ridiculous if she pinched herself, that niggling thought in the back of her mind telling her that this was all a dream. She dismissed it though when his thumb brushed against her cheek and she couldn't help leaning into his hand, relishing the contact with him, her eyes fluttering shut. She was still confused, wanting to know why he looked so sad when he mentioned a sister, but she knew he would tell her in time.

"Molly?" She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling softly.

"Hmm?"

"Will you say it again?" He looked as if he were in pain as he asked the question, that sad look flitting across his face, and Molly lifted her free hand to brush one of his dark curls off his forehead. She knew what he wanted and her heart wanted to burst with affection and love for this complicated, impossible man before her. Moving closer she stood on tiptoe so she could press her forehead to his.

"I love you, Sherlock," she whispered, a smile curling her lips when she felt him shudder and then melt into her, his arms wrapping around her tightly, one looping around her waist as the other curled around her shoulders, his hand tangling into her hair as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Molly wrapped her own arms around him, carding her hands into his hair, holding him securely in her embrace.

"And I you," he murmured into her ear, pressing a kiss to the small hollow beneath it. A shuddering sigh escaped her and they swayed slowly together in the quiet of Bart's morgue. While Molly knew that they had a lot to talk about and she had many questions for the consulting detective, right now she was exactly where she wanted to be.

 ** _Thanks for reading!_**


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